An Inspired Idea
by LittleBird427
Summary: The conspiratorial pair of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger plan their first enjoyable Valentines Day. SSHG
1. An Inspired Idea

Summary: The conspiratorial pair of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger plan their first enjoyable Valentines Day. SS/HG

Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns everything, I don't. No copyright infringement is intended.

Authors Note: In response to the Valentine's Day, BAH-HUM-BUG! challenge by nesscafe. Ok, I saw the word sabotage in this challenge and immediately fell in love with it!! Hope you all enjoy!!

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Chapter 1

"Damn!!" 

Hermione Granger angrily threw down the letter and slumped further into her favorite library chair. How dare they deny her application to the Magical Ethics Symposium? She knew that as she was a student it was unlikely that they would accept her submission -- but she really wanted to go. Truthfully, she had little interest in the subject matter of Magical Ethics; the real draw was the date of the symposium. February 14th -- the most hated day of her life -- Valentine's Day. Now there would be no getting out of it, and yet again, she would have to endure the Headmaster's bloody ball. Life was not fair.

"Miss Granger, would you kindly lower your voice? Others are trying to use this library to research, not chit-chat." 

Professor Severus Snape was in no mood to listen to the inane babbling of his most annoying student. He had other things on his mind. Every year he tried to get out of the Headmaster's horrid Valentines Day Ball, and every year he was denied that one small request. In an effort to save the wizarding world, he had endured hours of torture at the hands of self-absorbed demons and dangerous predators hell bent on causing catastrophes and mayhem wherever they went. But aside from those despised teaching duties he had also spied on Voldemort -- almost forgot about that. And what did he get in return? A one-way ticket to a heart shaped hell. Life was not fair.

"Professor Snape, do you see anyone else around me? Maybe you have the ability to chit-chat with yourself, but I prefer company for my conversations--"

As soon as the words left her mouth she was horrified -- she had just talked back to her Professor. For some reason she had been born with the ability to open her mouth and speak, all without any assistance from the rest of her body -- or her mind. Her 'condition' appeared to worsen when she got angry, (which she was,) but this was too horrible for words. Her eyes opened wide in shock. It was like watching a train wreck -- You want to look away, but you just can't. Her hand finally found her mouth and slapped down hard to create a verbal dam. Too late -- way too late -- the damage had already been done.

"Miss Granger," the Professor began, his anger bubbling at the surface. "Is there some reason as to why you are trying my patience? There was a time when people would have been considered guilty of harboring a death wish for speaking back to me in such a way."

Momentarily relieved that he had said the words rather than the associated unforgivable, she decided to misunderstand his largely rhetorical question and instead answered it candidly. "No, not a death wish, but perhaps an extended visit to the infirmary?"

"Pardon me?" His look of incredulity caused her to stifle an inappropriate giggle. She hadn't giggled in years -- if ever. (That thing with Gilderoy Lockhart didn't count.)

"Well sir, as per my calculations, if I could manage a week long trip to the infirmary that would enable me to miss the Valentine's Day Ball." She said the words in a rush, not sure if she hoped he would hex her for insubordination (trip to the infirmary here I come) or, think she was crazy (longer trip to St. Mungo's -- oops.)

To her surprise he did neither. He laughed. Not some polite chuckle or a maniacal smirk either, but a pretty decent laugh. One might even call it a guffaw -- if one were so inclined.

After calming down long enough to catch his breath, he regarded the female leg of the Golden Trio and said, "No date either?"

"Owww, you wouldn't understand," she growled. That wasn't it -- well, not all of it at least. She was about to begin her tirade on equal rights and how women shouldn't be subjected to saccharine induced holidays just to bolster a man's ego (her standard line -- suitable for authoritative figures and small children) when she took a good look at the man seated nearby. Actually, if anyone at this school would understand, it would be the feared greasy git. Ruefully, she admitted he was right -- she had no date and it was killing her.

Wait a minute -- "_Either?_ Professor, you mean you don't have a date?" 

Noting the sweep of his elegant eyebrow, she realized it was a rather silly thing to pick up on.

"Not at all Miss Granger," he said with mock seriousness. "I have a bevy of ladies lined up at my door. I'll never understand what they all see in the 'greasy git' -- but I do believe they've started a fan club."

She wanted to laugh, but a quick comparison with him had her rejection meter in the red. They were both hopeless. Ok, so maybe she wasn't quite as horrible looking as Professor Snape. She did at least keep herself clean, but when was the last time she ran a charm through her ratty hair? There was no denying that she could do a lot more.

"I just wish they would call the whole thing off," she said dejectedly. "It's no fun being the fifth wheel with Harry, Ron and their dates _du jour_." Ever since the fall of Voldemort Harry and his sidekick were the toasts of the wizarding world. They were never at a loss for dates. Hermione however, fell victim to the 'strong woman' reputation that frightened most men.

"Well, I do believe we have finally found something to agree on." A tinge of ruefulness edged into his voice, but he quickly shook it off. "What I wouldn't give to pop all those blasted heart shaped balloons."

"Yes," she laughed. "And what about those dreadful talking valentines? Imagine if they all started spouting depressing sonnets instead? Oh, and what if the music at the ball was replaced with funeral dirges?"

Awwww, he smiled at that. Hermione first thought that being gifted with the sight of his smile was rather sweet, but upon careful inspection, she realized it was actually kind of scary. She was just glad that it was directed somewhere other than herself. 

Then inspiration struck -- like a bolt of lightning -- or rather a flaming cupid's arrow. "Hehehe," she chuckled menacingly and caught the Potions Master's raised eyebrow. "I have an idea," she said.

And that is how, the Gryffindor know-it-all, and the most feared professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, formed their conspiratorial partnership. They talked in hushed tones, so as to not be overheard, and planned their first covert assignment together -- Operation BAH-HUM-BUG!


	2. The BreakIn

Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns everything, I don't. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 2 - The Break In

Camouflaged in a slinky catsuit, Hermione Granger prowled her way down the corridor in a silent progression that was testament to her impeccable training. Her sleek form blended into the darkened hallway as she slipped from inconspicuous nooks to ubiquitous statues, while around her the theme from Mission Impossible scored her every move. Her goal on this mission -- to infiltrate the evil Headmaster's office and make away with the evidence of his devious plans without being detected.

Ok, so maybe it _wasn't_ a slinky catsuit. It was a pair of old jeans, and a sweatshirt with a picture of a rather adorable cat perched above the caption _Kiss Me, I'm Purrrfect..._; and perhaps knocking over that suit of armor in the main hallway _wasn't_ the quietest move she had ever made, but the annoying Mission Impossible theme _was_ running through her head and would not stop. 

She had expected a bit more trouble en route to Dumbledore's office, but as all the professors were currently ensconced in yet another staff meeting, she had nothing to worry about. Besides, Snape was the only one that even bothered to walk the halls looking for errant students. Well, aside from Mrs. Norris -- who was currently being serviced by a very helpful Crookshanks. Most of the staff avoided stalker duty and were never seen in the corridors after dark. 

Most of the staff that is, with the notable exception of Professor McGonagall, who was usually trying to hide from students rather than look for them. Most students knew that her late night strolls were a result of trysts with the Headmaster... or Filch... or Lockhart (during his tenure)... or as it was occasionally rumored -- Trelawney. Honestly, the animagi had the morals of an alley cat. It was surprising that she was able to keep all of them straight... well -- in a manner of speaking. 

Snape had assured her that with Dumbledore out of his office pontificating in front of the entire staff, it was a perfect time to get the Valentine's Day dossier. She noticed that he showed a bit of reluctance over doing the job himself, and she attributed that to his fear of being caught. Not that she could blame him. If exposed, the famed Head Girl would probably get a medal for her ingenuity at testing the wards on the Headmaster's office, while the former Death Eater would probably get sacked.

Arriving at her destination, the shrewd operative looked up at the Gargoyle statue guarding the Headmaster's lair and spoke the password. "The winner and undefeated champion -- Albus Dumbledore." She cringed as the sentry moved aside and allowed her to pass. 

She thought maybe Snape had been joking when he told her the password. He had rolled his eyes and smirked as she threw out guesses such as: Lemon Drops, Chocolate Frogs, and Candied Yams. Then, just when she had enough, he supplied her with the answer. It seemed that in addition to his love of sugar-induced delights, the man also had an ego the size of Mount Olympus. That wasn't a surprise.

Entering the office, she immediately found herself surrounded by the Headmasters of Hogwarts past. She had forgotten about the rather odd collection, and as she gazed at their shocked expressions she wondered if the jig was up. Deciding that with a group of elderly men, the best course of action was an offensive course -- she quickly flashed them -- a brilliant smile. She then told them that as head girl she had been asked to pick up some paperwork for the Headmaster. They all looked at her with such doting admiration (well, the ones that were awake anyway) that she almost felt bad about duping them. 'Nah -- fuck'em,' she thought, 'they all ascended to their positions of power for duplicities far worse than this.'

Settling in to the Headmaster's chair she was finally able to confirm some her thoughts about his pathetic power plays. She had always assumed that his chair was a foot or so taller than the readily available guest chairs, and now she had proof -- too bad she couldn't share the information. 

She rummaged through the stacks of Ministry paperwork and desert crumbs that littered his desk but came up empty. Picking up a pile of Hogwarts letters, she found a photograph hidden underneath. To her horror the picture -- taken in the great hall during some party -- displayed a naked Professor Umbridge smiling seductively and beckoning the Headmaster closer. "Ewwww..." dropping the photograph she shuddered and resisted the urge to poke her eyes out. She had always wondered what happened at the school outside of term time. If this photograph was any indication, it was just one extended orgy. 

While returning the photograph, another rather depressing thought occurred to her. She had just seen proof that Dolores Umbridge was getting more action than she was. It was just the incentive she needed to hate Valentine's Day more than ever.

Pulling out the multitude of desk drawers with a vengeance she finally hit the jackpot. Opening the Valentine's Day folder, she quickly scanned the list of tortures the Headmaster expected them to endure. Each one was more sickening than the last, and would have to be dealt with in kind. 

Pushing the list aside, she came across the musical contracts. "The Weird Sisters? Ha! We have something so much better planned," and with a devious swish and a rather cruel flick, the contract was cancelled. Moving on to the remainder of the pile, she took care to "handle" each item as per her earlier discussion with Snape. Some were cancelled, others altered, and some were merely noted for future reference. When she had finished her work she made a copy of the folder and put the original back in its place.

As she turned to leave, she gave the room one final sweep to remove any evidence of her presence. With a reverent smile she addressed the portraits, "Gentlemen, you've all been so kind. Just one more thing if you wouldn't mind?" Feeling a bit like Dr Seuss with her silly unintended rhyme, she was relived that her comment was rewarded with a roomful of indulgent faces. "Obliviate!" She yelled at the old men, before scampering out of the office.

Running back to her room she couldn't help but laugh menacingly at the fate that was about to befall the school.

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A/N: Thanks to NegativeNine for her beta work!!

Sorry to all for the long wait. My original Chapter 2 just didn't make the cut, so after unsuccessful re-tooling I abandoned it for Chapter 3. Key points have been nicked for future chapters.


	3. What's Wrong With Those Two

Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns everything, I don't. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 3 - What's Wrong With Those Two

"If you don't do something about your little friend, than I will!"

Harry and Ron had been minding their own business, enjoying a relaxing lunch when they were interrupted by a very angry Slytherin. Standing proudly before them, the irate student had made sure everyone was looking at him -- the Slytherin sex god. Harry Potter may have struck the final blow against Voldemort, but _he_ was the real chosen one and he wasn't about to let anyone forget that.

"Hello Draco," Harry drawled, "and how nice it is to see you too." Even though the Death Eaters lost the war, and his father ended up in Azaban, Draco Malfoy was still under the misconception that he was the grand wizard of Hogwarts. Sure he had his mild moments of humility -- like when he turned against Voldemort just before the final battle -- but when he didn't get his way he still turned into a bleating whinger. 

But due to Draco's change of heart and the assistance he gave when it really mattered, Harry had graciously put aside his differences with the other boy and welcomed him into the fold. It was a rocky road to be sure, but things were progressing in a positive direction... usually.

"Enough of the niceties Potter," Draco snapped back. "Granger has gone too far -- and you have to put a stop to it."

The two Gryffindors would have loved to have feigned innocence as to the cause of the ferret boy's anger, but it actually wasn't the first _report_ they had received. Apparently, after deciding that the Professors weren't assigning enough homework, their industrious friend had convinced them to add more. Not only had she negotiated a 5-foot scroll on the merits of the Animagi registry for Advanced Transfiguration, but they also had to do a comparative essay on the effects of inbreeding for Magic Through the Ages, using the European royal community and the pureblood wizarding world as examples.

The fallout had been substantial, and needless to say it had not been an easy day for the friends of Hermione Granger.

"Draco, I know she's been a bit high strung lately-" Harry had meant to placate his former rival, but he was interrupted long before the effects took hold. Ron had noticed Hermione's entrance into the room and was busy making slashing gestures across his neck. Harry wasn't sure if that meant for them to cease their conversation or that his voracious appetite had finally choked him mute. He was prepared to concede the former while secretly wishing for the latter.

"She's impossible this time every year," Draco retorted, and with one final glance at his quickly approaching adversary he hissed out his final warning. "She has to be stopped. If you aren't man enough to handle her, then I'll find someone who is."

Hermione reached the table just in time to see the Slytherin drama queen spin on his heel and stalk away. "What's up with him?" From the way he was acting, she was sure it was some female problem. Sighing inwardly, she lamented his lot in life. It was going to be quite a blow to his ego when he finally figured out he was gay. Some men didn't handle that well, and she suspected he might be one of them.

Opening a book and digging into her intellectual lunch, Hermione was oblivious to her two friends and their volleying gestures. 

She always seemed to get moody around the middle of February, and it wasn't until recently that they realized why. They had both come to the conclusion that she had never gotten over the apparent "crush" she harbored for each of them, and was in a constant state of heartbreak when Valentine's Day rolled around. It was almost enough to make them sorry that they were _so_ attractive to members of the opposite sex... _almost_.

They knew that their friend needed a distraction, preferably something that would alleviate her pent up frustrations over school. It was clear what would fill the void -- a man -- and for their sake he couldn't come soon enough. Although they knew what had to be done, neither was prepared to offer the ultimate sacrifice. They were friends after all -- basically family -- and it just didn't seem right. They just didn't understand why she didn't see that. 

Before they were rudely interrupted that had been discussing who might be convinced to take on such a monumental responsibility, but their efforts had fallen short. The prospects at the school were rather slim, so they had decided to take her into town and see she sparked the interest of anyone there. After all, everyone at school knew about her use of the time turner and they were well aware that she was now older than everyone else by a year or so. That was rather intimidating to most of the "boys" at school.

When the final glance had been cast, it appeared as though Ron had lost the volley. Gathering up his courage he plowed forward with his usual tact. "Hermione, we- and by we I mean just Harry and I," he said quickly. "Well, we were thinking about your prospects."

Looking up warily she had a bad feeling about the start of this conversation. "What _prospects_ would that be Ron?"

Thinking that nothing was worth the wrath of Hermione Granger, he quickly abandoned his earlier thoughts of including her in on their search, and decided to use straight deception instead. "Yes the... _prospect_ of you joining us tomorrow at Hogsmeade. It's been so long since we've had lunch together at the Hog's Head." It did after all offer a much older crowd than the Three Broomsticks.

"Ewww... Ron, I'm not eating there. There are always bugs circling the food." She was disgusted at the thought. Honestly, he would eat anything.

Aggravated more at Harry's lack of assistance than her comments he retorted, "Well, bugs _are_ protein."

"So is sperm, but I don't give blow jobs for breakfast." She looked at their shocked expressions with a bit of exasperation. Sure, it was ok for them to talk about sex, but let her mention it _one time_ and they look at her like she's Voldemort reincarnated.

After a moment to compose himself, Ron considered her comment and said, "Well, maybe you should try it. You might get more dates that way."

"Might? I _Might_ get more dates that way?" This was bad. If the assurance of fellatio wasn't enough to ensure her a date then things were worse than she thought. She saw proof that Umbridge got all she could handle, and yet she couldn't even get a date with the _promise_ of a blow job. Her anger swelled again and she thought of the plans that she and Snape had made. They were moving along nicely, and come Valentine's Day they would all pay.

In the meantime, she decided to recapture a bit of their earlier shock and pushed forward an in-depth discussion on the act of giving head. She had read enough books on the subject that she could describe the finer points like a pro, and was determined that by the end of lunch she would have them squirming in their seats. There was no reason that her payback shouldn't start a bit early.

On the other side of the room only Professors McGonagall and Hootch noticed the Potions Master as he beat a hasty retreat from the Head Table. Returning to an earlier abandoned conversation, the two teachers discussed possible dates for their brooding friend. They were determined that this year he would not be alone on Valentine's Day.

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A/N: Sorry to all for the long wait, but it became clear that I needed this chapter to set up the next one, so I've been writing a bit out of order. I know this was light on the sabotage aspect of the story, but there was more to the challenge and I'm itching to get it all in there!! (Do you all know what's coming next chapter?) 

Thanks to all that have read and reviewed -- definitely an incentive to write more quickly. To all that commented on Umbridge I can sympathize. I had to close my eyes when I wrote that part, but she was screaming for some action and couldn't pass it up ;-) 

Last but not least -- a big thanks to NegativeNine for her beta work!! I've been overloading her with chapters lately and she's been very kind to fit me into her busy schedule -- You are the best!!


	4. Detention

Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns everything, I don't. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 4 - Detention

As a Death Eater, Severus Snape had been adept at intimidating his opponents in order to gain the upper hand; he had learned to prey upon the weaknesses of others and use them to his own advantage. Masterfully trained to size up his opposition, he was currently staring down his latest adversary with an intensity not often found outside of a dark revel. He could smell their fear and he smiled with the knowledge that no matter who came out victorious, the results would be the same - the end would mean his emancipation. For the weary saboteur, he knew that the end could not come soon enough, because for the past hour the pounding in his head had started to overpower the twitching in his left eye. The war may have ended, but like Gringotts and Minister Fudge, the Slytherin/Gryffindor potions class remained -- courtesy of Albus "Bleeding" Dumbledore. 

Snape had spent the previous evening listening to the old windbag boast about the Valentine's Day festivities and the surprise events he had planned with the former Headmasters. And that's when it hit him -- those blasted portraits. He had completely forgotten that the room was filled with a bunch of old busybodies who had nothing better to do than lie in wait for their next victim. As a veteran spy he was trained to handle any situation, but his new apprentice would have been ambushed. 

As her mentor he should have been concerned for her safety, but the remainder of the night found him lamenting his own situation. He used to be a trusted advisor to Voldemort and a top-notch double agent; and now he was reduced to pulling childish pranks with the aid of a student -- a Gryffindor no less. Not only that, but after all these years he was about to get caught -- Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

He hadn't expected her to get past the portraits of evil, so when he saw her in the Great Hall at lunch with a rather smug look on her face, he knew she was up to something. He figured that if she had been unsuccessful in entering the room she wouldn't be smiling, so it had to be that the Gryffindor darling had gotten caught and turned him in to save herself.

Looking out for his own best interests, he used a charmed goblet to listen in on her conversation. He was astonished to find that the discussion centered on the subject of -- dare he even think it -- blow jobs. Certainly it wasn't something he had ever associated with someone of her academic brilliance. He had thought about the depth in which she articulated her every position... the way her mouth warmed to any topic... how her tongue flicked sharply as she drove home her point... and her lips... as they wrapped around his-- 

He had tried to push the thought away quickly, but when something provocative takes hold, there are only certain ways it can be relieved. He had made a quick dash from the table in order to spend some quality time alone in his chambers, but had been cornered by the Headmaster and missed his opportunity. His concentrated efforts during class should have lessened his problem, but with her every move it seemed she was determined to taunt him with her blatant sexuality. 

Didn't she know that a man could only be pushed so far? Damn her.

"Miss Granger."

"Yes Professor?"

"Did I not just deduct 20 points from you a few minutes ago for assisting Mr. Longbottom with his potion?"

"Yes Professor."

"And 10 points the time before that?"

"Yes Professor."

"Well, perhaps another 30 points is in order. Now get back to work."

"Yes Professor."

The room was quiet except for the sounds of students busily mixing their potions. It was apparent to all that Professor Snape was in a foul mood, and most of the students were determined to give him a wide berth. Most -- meaning all but Hermione Granger, who seemed oblivious to the Slytherin smirks and Gryffindor scowls every time she opened her mouth. Since the fall of Voldemort many inter-house friendships had formed, but the House Cup was still the House Cup. After a few minutes she leaned over and whispered another command to her inept lab partner. To her fellow Gryffindors that had been enough, and they hissed at her with displeasure.

"Miss Granger!" The complete exasperation evident in the Potion Master's voice and demeanor had begun to worry not only the Gryffindors, but also the Slytherins.

"Yes Professor?" Her words were returned with a hint of frustration, and she followed them with a look that obviously conveyed her desire for something more.

Catching the glint in her eye the Professor decided that enough was enough. If she wanted more she would get it -- he was nothing if not accommodating. "Perhaps a detention would improve your listening skills." He noted the look of approval on her face before throwing in, "see me directly after class to schedule the time."

"Yes Professor." With the slight smile hovering on her lips indicating her success, she quietly went back to work.

He was used to the mad stampede at the end of every potions class and today was no different -- except for her. While the rest of the class scampered out the door she lingered at her desk. He noticed her delicate movements as she put away her supplies and returned her books to her satchel. When the last student departed the classroom, she sauntered over to him and boldly warded the classroom door. She casually dropped her bag to the floor and perched on the side of his desk. 'So this was how it was going to be,' he thought, 'she wants to be the aggressor.' He couldn't help but smile at her brazenness. 

As he turned in his chair to address her, his hand whispered past her thigh. He took note of her gentle shiver and drew his eyes up her body, pausing momentarily on her nipples as they peeked though the thin cotton of her school blouse. With a last ditch effort to stop the illicit affair from proceeding, he tried to look away and reminded himself that she was a student --- but his eyes ignored the inappropriateness of the situation and continued on their journey. As his mind was busy chastising his body for it's betrayal, their eyes locked in a smoldering embrace.

She wouldn't have been the first to corner the Potions _Master_ in his _dungeon_ for a well deserved _detention_. True, it had never happened during _his_ tenure, but all his academic counterparts had sworn that it happened to them on a regular basis. Or, perhaps this was to be sexual blackmail? He still hadn't heard what deal she had struck for her freedom over the break-in. Perhaps she hadn't turned him in yet and was waiting for a better offer. He certainly didn't have a problem with trading a sexual favor for his freedom. Although, it was rather daunting to think that his career would hang on the balance of one sexual experience -- she was a perfectionist after all. What if he couldn't live up to her expectations? Would he get a second chance, and if so, would she grade on a curve? The thought of multiple (and regular) second chances danced in his head and he quickly overcame any anxieties he had over the impending liaison. 

He was determined that -- either way -- he would finally have a tawdry tale to share at the Potion Masters' conference. His mind raced with the lurid advice usually found in the pages of PlayWizard, and as he saw the deep crimson rise in her cheeks he knew she was thinking the same thing. 'Oh, she wants me,' he couldn't help but think, 'she wants me bad.'

As that thought danced in his head he sat at the edge of his seat like a coiled serpent and readied himself for her opening move. The air was thick with emotion, and finally -- unable to stand the silence any longer -- she spoke.

"Are you alright Professor? You look a bit flushed. Do you want me to open a window, or would you rather I call Madame Pomfrey for you?"

Finally noticing her look of innocent confusion he wondered if he might have misunderstood her earlier intentions. Then it hit him, he had forgotten all about the detention they had planned yesterday. She hadn't been coming on to him during class; she had been setting the stage for their next plotting session. "No," he bit out a bit too forcefully, "I'm fine." Actually he wasn't fine. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and quickly re-doubled his efforts to _diminish_ his situation before she became wise to it. 

"Oh, well then, would you mind telling me what that was all about?"

Damn! Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse. Of course, she noticed the dramatically uncoiled serpent in his trousers just waiting to spring into action. Not only was he _not_ going to get any, but she also knew that he had been expecting it. Unsure of what to say when found in such a situation, he remained silent but gave her what he hoped was a rather nasty glare.

She ignored his lack of response and continued on sarcastically. "When we agreed -- no, when _you_ decided -- that I would get detention for the week so we could work together, you didn't say anything about taking..." She paused to do a quick calculation, "60 points from me!"

Thank Merlin! Relief flooded over him when he realized that she was only concerned about silly house points. Honestly, if he didn't have a large number of Galleons riding on the outcome of the House Cup every year, he would never even think of them. He started calculating house points and the various ways he could subtract them, and hoped that his not-so-little problem would go away soon.

Recognizing that she was still waiting for a response, he answered shortly, "Actually, I do believe it was 70 points. I took 10 points when you entered the classroom -- for walking too loudly." Try as he might, he couldn't contain the snicker at his ability to take away points. To some it was a job; to him it was really an art.

Hermione was livid; it was as if their previous day's conversation had never happened. She reached down and picked up a folder that she flashed about to punctuate her words. "I risk my reputation -- my academic career -- and in return for my gift," at this she threw the folder into his lap, "you take points away from me?"

Finally, here was something useful; he could hide behind this until she left. His thoughts wandered for a moment before her words registered and he thought about what was most likely inside the folder. "This is Dumbledore's Valentine's Day file?" Although the answer was obvious, he had felt the need to ask, and was rewarded by her condescending nod. "You made it past the portrait wall?" Again, she gave another nod. "How did you get out?"

"I Obliviated them." She said the words with such ease that Snape was impressed. Despite her scholastic achievements, that particular spell was a very advanced, and the fact that the Headmaster was unaware of her efforts meant she had performed it correctly.

She knew that her mastery of that spell was remarkable, and she couldn't help expounding on it under the guise of explaining it away. "I stood next to the great Harry Potter as he faced down the dark lord." As she watched him raise his eyebrow, she shrugged and said, "It wasn't an isolated incident... I did pick up a bit along the way..."

Snape chuckled slightly at that comment and wondered what other talents she had picked up. "Well, I think that deserves a point or two." What was he doing awarding points to a Gryffindor? This madness had to end.

Smiling at her victory, Hermione decided to ride the wave, and went on to mention what she had found in the file. She knew that this really was a large undertaking and while they both wanted it to go well, she was just afraid they hadn't left themselves enough time. With a flourish she pulled a folded paper from her bag, and quickly opened it to display an intricate and obscenely colored chart. The chart clearly listed the resources needed, the optimum placement, and intended effect of each prank. With a bright smile on her face she turned and plastered it to the blackboard.

She had grabbed his attention when she had bent over to pull something out of her bag. Although he knew his attention should have been elsewhere, he couldn't help but be transfixed by her round bottom as it swayed from side to side with her efforts to hang the chart. 

"Nice ass," he said absentmindedly.

"What?"

"Er... Chart!! I mean chart!!" He said hurriedly, hoping she hadn't actually heard is comment. "Nice Chart!!"

Turning to him with a broad smile she said proudly, "Thank you. I used my Arithmancy studies to calculate the most effective combinations." She enjoyed work that pulled from her various studies.

Bringing his mind back to the purpose of their meeting, Snape couldn't help but marvel at the amount of time and effort she was putting in to a childish prank. He then thought of how it was indicative of the level of attention she had always paid to her studies. Realizing that she would expect the same level of effort from her friends, he wondered how Potter and Weasley had held up for so many years. Seven years of this type of behavior and lesser men might have chosen Voldemort. Pointing to a rather nasty entry on the chart he said, "Are you sure about this one? I thought these people were your friends?" He noticed her careless shrug and wondered if the war would have gone differently had she been on the Dark Lord's side. 

There were a few more items to add to the list, and some minor changes that were taken care of in a flash. Gathering up and concealing the evidence, the professor hurried his student out of the classroom so he could finally alleviate the tightness in his pants before meeting the other teachers for dinner. He hadn't thought it possible, but apparently he had gotten through the meeting with his dignity intact.

As she reached the door she turned and said rather saucily, "Oh, and Professor... you might want to use this time to _handle_ that problem that keeps popping up. You wouldn't want to scare away the rest of the staff." He could hear her snicker long after the classroom door closed -- damn her.

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A/N: Thanks to NegativeNine for her beta work!! Also, thanks to all that have reviewed!!


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